


Dead Like Me

by Shimmershot



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Gen, Ghost in the Works, Mind Meld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimmershot/pseuds/Shimmershot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission to survey a Class M planet inevitably goes wrong in epic proportions, leaving tragedy in its wake.  Meanwhile, Enterprise has her own issues to work through as a coup is discovered after a vicious attack, leaving the crew in mourning and far more vulnerable than they want to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelation

When it happened, he’d never really know for certain. It never really clicked. He’d been so focused on his make shift Comms Array, pieced together with siphoned parts from various gadgets they’d all happened to have on them when trouble had found them. Super advanced, and natives who appeared to be in the Hunter/Gatherer stage, were still able to avoid scanners and get the drop on them.  
  
And the equipment failure! Instead of Beaming back to Enterprise, they beamed from the circle formation of "Native Mass Anger" and into a small alcove located on the tallest cliff face on the entire planet. And he couldn’t get a single one of their Comms to tune right. No further attempts by Enterprise dampened the spirits of the other men of their party while he’d kept busy. Supplies hadn’t beamed with them, leaving them with only the items they had in pockets and in hands, amounting to hardly anything.  
  
At some point, it was decided that one of the two Security Officers (the one who'd apparently been the only one to grab the tack gear upon their exodus), would scale the cliff. The aim was to either recover the supplies or find food. Not long after, the other was gone after a murmur of words he hadn't paid a hole lot of notice to.  
  
The last thing he was aware of was the loud curse from Strauss, the sound of whistling and the disturbing scent of blood soaked eucalyptus.  
Voices stirred him, and he groaned, palming his eyes in a vain attempt to calm the pounding behind them. He spied the crumpled remains of the Array, first, and cringed. The destroyed Array and the large, brightly colored arrow at its base, the less than helpful headache and the rock beneath him (which left him feeling stiff and sore), all pointed to a distinct lack of Enterprise.  
  
“Dammit… he’s dead too.” That had him sit upright in a flash. Jenson and the Mobian whose name he hadn’t caught were knelt down a ways off. The two Security Officers were pale (or, in the Mobian’s case, a shade lighter), shoulders drooped and breathing irregularly. “We should have brought them with us…”  
  
“What’s done is done,” the Mobian recovered, surging to his feet and moving over to the Array. “Are you any good with machinery?”  
  
Somewhat affronted at the question, he himself scoffed. But Jenson had stood and was looking only at the Array, seeming to study it carefully. And the kid answered, cutting off his snarky retort. “I can tune my Broadband, but that thing is too technical given what Mr. Scott was working with. The rocks and arrows look like they severed some pieces, too. I can’t touch it. It’s way beyond me.”  
  
The damage was critical. And Scotty wasn’t sure he himself could do anything to fix it. “Sorry lads, I –“  
  
The mournful sigh cut him off, and he stared at the Mobian with a wide-eyes stare, fear seeping at the edges of his senses. “Right. We can’t do anything here. Let’s head up. When Enterprise finally finds us, we can collect the dead.”  
  
“Wait,” Scotty called out, brow knitting. “Can… Can ye no’ see me?” He pushed to his feet, not looking away from the Mobian, who sauntered past without a glance. “Oi! You!” He cursed not knowing the man’s name. “This is a terrible joke,” he growled. Only, he paused, heart stuttering at the sight beyond him. Dead. Strauss was gone… an arrow, now broken off out of respect, was embedded in his skull. And beside Strauss…  
  
It wasn’t possible! He was alive! He was right bloody here! But as he knelt beside himself in an otherworldly sense of de ja vous and reached out to touch one of the two broken arrows in his doppelganger's unmoving chest, he recoiled at the lack of sensation in his fingers and hand as they passed through.  
  
The Officers were leaving. “Wait! Ya cannae just go! Come back here, that’s a bloody order!” He scrambled after as they heaved themselves back up the rope they must have secured to repel down safely. “Please, wait! Somethin’s no’ right!” His hands passed through the rope and his brown eyes widened with the realization. He quieted, watching them leave without another word.  
  
It was terrifying even as it wasn’t. He hadn’t been afraid of death… he just hadn’t expected it. There was so much that he’d be leaving behind… not to say he had an overwhelming number of people he cared about… but there were some. And he’d had to pull them out of a few messy situations through sheer determination. They’d be fine… he knew it. He just had an insatiable wish to see them once more time and say goodbye.  
  
As time passed, he found himself watching a rather colorful and symbolic sunset. He’d grown up with a few sunsets and sunrises of absolute beauty, but there was something about the alien world and its atmospheric pressures that lit the sky in a mesh of fuchsia, sea green and lavender, swathed against the orange of the normal sky that was breath taking.  
  
The light faded, bringing the darkest night he’d encountered yet on a planet. Nothing changed. He was still dead, laying against the cavern wall, settled beside the equally dead Strauss. Unable to touch anything (and it’d been perplexing to realize that the walls, floor and ceiling were akin to a force field he couldn’t feel), there was nothing to do. There was nothing he could do. He was trapped. Gravity, oddly, still applied, meaning he couldn’t risk jumping. He couldn’t feel or grasp the ledges… there was no way to work on the Array like this… the Transporter wouldn’t be able to beam back what technically didn’t exist…  
  
Maybe jumping wasn’t such a bad idea.  
  
He almost didn’t hear the arrival. He’d sunken in beside himself, knees drawn in a way he hadn’t done since he’d been in Academy, mind racing so fast he felt truly, utterly blank. It was the word that shook him to awareness. “Damn.” Even then, he hardly reacted. His eyes swiveled to the source, however, revealing a slightly battered Sulu. Behind him was a woman in a blue jump suit he didn’t recognize. Sulu stepped over almost soundlessly, gravel only crunching as he knelt beside the two bodies. His expression was stoic, if not for the burning surge of something in his eyes.  
  
It moved him enough to find his voice. “Could nae say it better m’self, lad.”  
  
“They died approximately twenty-seven hours ago,” the dark haired lady said, running the Tri-Corder’s scanner over Strauss. “The timeline fits.”  
  
“You really think Jos would actually betray us though?” Another voice… a female voice he couldn’t place. “He was loyal to a fault. I’m having a hard time believing it.”  
  
The other woman replied, “The facts are adding up. Jos left this cave first, according to his own words. As acting Security Lead, he should have known better. Unless Mr. Scott specifically ordered him to go, which Jos himself denied, as did Jenson, he should have stayed. No one should have left. Not with the apparent progress Mr. Scott was making with that Array.” Her eyes swung to the defunct jumble of parts.  
  
“Hunger and stress make a bad combination when in a situation like this, Number One,” the mystery woman returned, coming around to see the bodies herself. A very pretty brunette in a red jumpsuit. He’d seen her in Security, making rounds here and there. She exuded genuine remorse that made him look away. Combined with Sulu’s unexplainable stare down, he couldn’t stomach it.  
  
“Given the events on board in Sickbay, as well as the direct leaving of his team, I am forced to believe he has truly betrayed the Enterprise,” Number One continued, now scanning the Array. “He deliberately left his team. Jenson left with an okay from Mr. Scott that he’d only be up to survey the immediate area. Jos left without any such conversation. And when he finally made his way back, he led the natives here.”  
  
He cringed, scrunching his eyes shut. This was hardly anything close to what he wanted to hear. A betrayal meant something none of them wanted to fathom.  
“We don’t know that for sure,” the red-clad woman hissed, thinking likely the same as he.  
  
“Enough,” Sulu interjected, snapping from his reverie and earning all eyes. “This isn’t the time.” He flipped his Comm open. “Sulu to Enterprise: We’re ready.” Just like that, they were vanishing, and he watched it happen sadly.  
  
He didn’t care that he blacked out as the particles vanished.


	2. Formality

The second the Away Team called, the ship went on alert. The calm but slightly frantic tone in Scotty’s voice was one that had the Captain more than a touch on edge. Natives. And they’d surrounded the five man team, appearing more than a little hostile. The call to beam them back was a moment too late as one of the Bio-Monitors (on Yolande) flat-lined.

Enterprise keeled in that exact moment, sending unsuspecting crew to the floor or crashing into consoles even as she shuddered and groaned. Every computer system flickered ominously, and the less required ones powered off entirely. “What the Hell was that??”Jim roared, righting himself in his chair.

All around the Bridge, voices rose, data flinging through the air. There was no sign of an enemy on any scanners… no phaser or torpedo damage… the trouble was clearly internal. A Hull Breach in Deck 12, severely affecting the entire ship in more ways than one. Shields fell to 50% due to power fluctuations. There was a containment field around the breach, but it was drawing a mass of suddenly precious energy. Warp was available, but only in small jumps.

The Transporter had malfunctioned. Spontaneously and of epic proportions. Thankfully, the failsafe systems worked. ^If they can’t be transported back (to the Pad) then they’ll be re-directed to an alternate location near the original Beam Point.^ It didn’t work 80% of the time in Star Fleet history, but it did this time. The rest of the team was alive and safe for the moment.

But systems were failing. Comms were down entirely, ship-wide. There was no Transporter at this time, and Enterprise’s orbit, as Sulu so helpfully pointed out, was decaying rapidly. Auxiliary Power could right them, but every system in the ship seemed glitched to the point of non-helpfulness.

What was worse was that apparently the Shuttles were reporting similar disturbances. Going planet-side was dangerous until they could determine the problem.

Repair crews from all Engineering shifts were half way through fixing the Transporter when the cause became known: sabotage. It rankled Jim to the core. Nothing in Vid-Feeds revealed the culprit, but Jim trusted Spock’s diagnosis, especially when backed by Carol’s own. 

The Shuttle, once operational, found Jos and Jenson almost by accident during what was supposed to be a quick test run to be sure it would operate correctly with a full Search and Rescue Team.

The events thereafter were a blur of motion and lights and general chaos.

Jim was present when the later Recovery Team beamed to Sickbay. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut when the bodies appeared. He didn’t know Engineer Strauss personally… but he knew enough that the man’s death stung… seeing the arrow point in the forehead was difficult… but it was harder with Scotty.

His Chief Engineer. Scotty was his (and Jim himself had picked the moniker) Miracle Worker. His friend. The only reason Scotty had been down there was because Jim had asked him to. Stuck in a Physical Examination with Bones that just couldn’t wait or end fast enough… Scotty had grumbled, but accepted, and beamed down for what was supposed to be a routine survey.

And now there were two arrows in the man’s chest, and more than a few scrapes and bruises. And Jim couldn’t help feeling that he had put them there himself.

Really, Scotty didn’t look dead. Aside from being overly pale with heavy dark shadowing at his eyes, he looked like he was asleep. Strauss’ lips had turned blue, and coloring was creeping around the visible parts of his skin. Side by side, they were striking. Rare that they were able to collect their dead… rarer still was that so long would pass between death and pick up.

They would be moved to the Morgue, just as Yolande had been. They each likely had a family at home… Family who’d want them back for burial reason… Enterprise would need repairs before being ready for Deep Space Exploration again. And he had to turn the Murdering Traitor over to Command for sentencing.

He growled, punching the closest wall. No one looked twice at him for it, either. Sulu almost looked like he wanted to mimic the action. It wasn’t like Bones would say anything against it, comatose as he was. Due to wake up in three days, his absence now was felt deeply.

Clenching his jaw, one last look at his former Engineer, he turned on his heel. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t help thinking how memory was a funny thing.

Pike was a memory Jim still found himself tearing up over. Not usually prone to tears… Pike had that effect. A sore spot for him. He wasn’t supposed to die. After everything Pike had done for him, and in the end, Jim hadn’t been there at the final moment.

He remembered the argument they had in his office regarding that damned report in stark clarity:  
-You think the rules don’t apply to you.-  
-Do you know how many men I’ve lost since you gave me the ship? None. Not one.-  
-That’s the problem with you. You think you’re invincible.-  
-I wouldn’t have put my First Officer’s life at stake in the first place.-

‘You were right after all, Pike,’ Jim thought, staring unseeingly at the mug of replicated coffee that was tilting dangerously in his hands. ‘I guess I was overconfident. You’d think dying would have made me think more. The signs were all over the place. Hindsight really is 20/20.’

He was tired of losing people. They were dead so unexpectedly, and it always knocked him off kilter. Who would the universe take next? Uhura? Bones? Spock? He knew he wasn’t thinking straight when Pike died. Spock, despite having been unbelievably annoyed with him, had been the anchor he’d needed. But it was Scotty’s words that had gotten through his fog, pointing out the danger of the unknown and the safety of the crew… but he’d come back. While pride had kept that Comm from being a true apology, Scotty had still come back and saved their hides.

Would it be Sulu? Chekov? Carol?

He had defied death… but it was something that couldn’t be done now. With Khan and his people in Deep Freeze again, and the ban that Star Fleet had put on the use of such actions, the dead would stay dead. There was no 1UP to use now.

He now had five (count ‘em, five) dead crewmen in the Morgue. He had the traitor responsible for putting them there in the Brig. Ten or so were in Sickbay, recovering from Jos’ Rampage, as it was silently being called in whispers around the ship. Jos’ friends were in a state of disbelief. The entirety of Engineering was reeling. The Command Crew weren’t fairing any better. The Bridge had the heavy air of mourning that made it hard to step into.

‘I can’t change what happened,’ he gripped the much tighter, trying to steal what little warmth remained in it. ‘I can’t figure out… why? Jos had a good career. Security Manager Bandi was eyeing him for promotion! Jos has friends on board and his file says he has a family on his home world. What would bring him to throw it all away like this?’

He was unaware that someone sat across from him.

Scotty had been watching Jim since he’d caught sight of him in the corridor some probable hours before. Confused (hadn’t he established that he’d be forever trapped in that cave?), he’d followed the Captain, uncertain what else could be done.

If it was Enterprise he’d forever wander, he could live with that. But seeing everyone he worked with so… down… it struck him in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d seen one of the Junior Apprentices he’d hired on run past him during his shadowing act earlier on, puffy and wet eyes and the sound of sniffling the only details that really reached him. He’d seen a look of murder finally break through the blank mask Sulu’d kept before the lad vanished entirely. And to see the single tear roll silently from the Captain… it hurt.

So when Jim suddenly raised his mug and gave a toast with a voice cracking and rough, Scotty couldn’t keep from looking down. It was painful to see. Yet, he didn’t leave. It was an odd conundrum, to want to leave so as to not see Jim as anything but his usual confident self, and not wanting to leave because he wasn’t.

So he stayed. Some part of him wishing that his presence could help where he otherwise couldn’t.

He had his own questions he could attempt looking into, of course. It would be difficult, given the ghostly quality he now possessed… but he was somewhat curious, if a little upset. Why was he here? There were five dead in this incident alone, yet he was the only ghost. Why was he brought to Enterprise when it shouldn’t have been possible?

And why was he so unbearably cold? The chill of the planet hadn’t bothered him after he’d… died. But now, he felt cold in a way that was hauntingly familiar, bringing up near constant memories of Delta Vega and the days he and Keenser struggled to stay alive. The grommet hadn’t wanted him to go planet-side on this mission. It hadn’t been said, so much as conveyed in body language. He’d still gone… partly order, and partly because the survey needed to be done or the Science Department would have heckled him to severe annoyance. But in true Keenser form, the Roylan had begged (in not so many words) him not to go. He’d promised the lad he’d be back soon enough.

Was anyone keeping an eye on the lad? Keenser would probably hide away for a long while. Somewhere up high that no one would think to check… he’d come out of it eventually, sure… but still.

“Captain.”

Scotty jumped, not having expected another voice quite so close. He slid out of the way in case the Vulcan decided that sitting would be logical. He hadn’t actually gone through anyone yet, and he wasn’t looking to do so if it could be avoided.

Of course, Jim startled also. “Mr. Spock.” He swiped a deft hand over his eyes, although they all knew Spock wouldn’t say anything. “What can I do for you?” Jim gestured the seat across from him, where Scotty’d been moments before.

Spock acquiesced, sitting quietly. “I was informed that Mr. Jenson has died.”

That was a sucker punch. Jim didn’t react, but Scotty dropped his head with a wince. Spock himself didn’t appear quite as detached as he probably wanted to be. “When?” Jim asked, voice barely loud enough to be heard in the quieter than normal Rec-Room.

“Thirty-one minutes, twenty-seven seconds. He is being moved to the Morgue in 17 minutes.”

“Has Jos said anything yet?” The Captain’s voice hardened.

“Not at this time. Though I suspect Mr. Jenson’s death could spur a word. The two, according to other crew and video records, were close during duty and afterward. Miss. Bandi confirms it.”

“Jos was the one who open fired on the entire Sickbay.” Using an old fashioned, antique fire arm no one would have even suspected would work. “He put that bullet in Erik.”

A raised brow. “Perhaps that is so.” 

The silence stretched at that. Mindless chatter from the few groups here and there wafting over. Many voices were drawn; subdued. Only one or two individuals shared any sort of jovial banter.

“Captain, I suggest you speak to the crew.” Jim’s blue eyes found Spock, who leveled that patented Vulcan Stare on him. “I believe they would benefit from it. Engineering especially appears to be struggling.”

“Acht, o’course they are!” Scotty groused with an untamed accent, burying his head in his arms on the table. “The poor lads n’lassies… Mr. Strauss was a good friend ‘n worker. N’er heard a peep against him from anyone.” He groaned. “Not to mention that there was likely another traitor… e’rything I’m seein’ of Enterprise points to someone with more technical training than Mr. Jos… An’ I n’er saw it coming…”

There was a beat of silence that had Mr. Scott look up, curious. Jim looked almost sick, while Spock almost seemed curious as the Vulcan eyed the table. “Captain, it also occurs to me that our investigation has not concluded.” Jim’s eyes narrowed, finding Spock’s in warning. “Given the sheer scope of the entire incident from start to finish, I believe Mr. Jos had an accomplice.” Scotty sat up a little straighter, eyeing Spock carefully. “Enterprise’s entire mainframe network glitch with seemingly no detectable cause at the precise moment the Landing Party was beamed. An Engineer with specialty in programming would have the explicit know-how and weak spots in the ship’s make up.”

Jim leaned forward, serious. “Do you believe it could be one of our Engineers?”

Once more, Spock’s brow quirked, “It is a 62% chance with the given information.”

The Captain stared a moment, then sighed heavily. “Alright. Inform Miss. Bandi that this is an official investigation.” He paused, “And I’ll see about talking to the crew.” That said, he pushed to his feet.

“Aye Captain,” Spock acknowledged, brow still raised. Jim strode out without another word. Spock remained a moment, then stood, casting a quick glance around the room. His dark gaze lingered a fraction too long on the seat beside his before he moved to follow the given order.

Scotty blinked, quickly following and not caring in that moment that his unprecise movements meant he was further proving his intangibility. 

All that mattered now was finding the one responsible… the one who had really betrayed them. The one who stole the crew’s sense of safety. Because that person was the one who was responsible for the landing party. Was the reason Enterprise was stationary in high orbit above the planet dubbed Quazarti in the database.

But he’d been truthful when he’d said (even to himself) that he didn’t know who’d been the traitor. There were a few additions that he’d been steadily becoming familiar with… but absolutely none of his department stood out in the manner of that in question. He couldn’t think of a single person whom could kill; and that’s precisely what they did. Kill. This person willingly crippled Enterprise in an unexplored section of space, with no feasible way to contact Star Fleet. This person created a problem that threatened everyone on board, including themselves.

He was no psychologist, but that usually pointed to suicidal tendencies. And no one he’d ever had contact with exhibited those types of warning signs. He’d known one or two of the type through his life. He felt he should have spotted it.

Miss. Bandi would have her work cut out for her


	3. Black Flowers

Sulu practically stomped through the corridors. No one gave him any notice. Everyone handled things in a different way. Most simply involved tears.

There was no denying that he was angry. Livid was too subtle. That moment when they’d beamed down to the coordinates Jenson had provided before the Sickbay Shooting, the white-hot rage that had threatened to break loose bubbled under his calm. It had taken a lot of will power to keep from snapping at Number One and Tabitha Riker the entire time.

That expression of “Red Vision” had nearly proven true when they reached the cliff to see the ropes of escape untouched. Scaling down the cliff was hardly a thing for him… but entering the cave had stunned him more than he’d expected. Colorfully feathered, large arrows decorated the cavern walls and ground… as did a trove of sharpened rocks. The small mess of Comms, wire and metal in the corner by a dry spot of what was obviously blood…

Mr. Strauss was the first he saw. Expression forever morphed in startlement. The broken shaft a testament to the ambush that actually killed him. Scotty was next, and it was cold realization that Sulu came to. Scotty didn’t have that frozen expression of fear or realization. His face was blank, if relaxed. The arrow remnants suggested he’d been turning when the first hit and the second caught a moment after.

These people were friends. And they’d been left open. Security had left them not only alone, but with a trail to follow, and the Natives had jumped at it.

The image of known faces, pale and colored with death, laying together in a cave with the proof of their attempt to contact Enterprise with colorful evidence of their attack would likely haunt Hikaru for a long while.

And that only served to make him angrier.

He hadn’t wanted to believe Jos could betray them. And it hadn’t been until the attack on Sickbay that his betrayal came out. After all, Enterprise had spontaneously errored out, displacing the Away Team, and that Scotty and Strauss were dead was unfortunate (and unbelievable), but things had a habit of becoming dangerous out here and they all knew the risk.

He wanted some time with Jos to remind the Mobian why his idea had been such a terrible one. Maybe add a little revenge. It was against every regulation regarding prisoners… and that was why he avoided the Brig despite the hard pull. Self-control.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. This wasn’t the first time people died onboard… but it was a first, nonetheless, and the sense of lost safety permeated the ship from the moment Code Black was sounded. The crew was violated by one of their own.

And a Security Officer on top of it.

He found himself in Hydroponics, and he moved around, checking the plants. In his head, he matched the names of each, remembering the techniques each required as well as the origin. It was an effective way to calm himself.

But truthfully? He didn’t want to lose his rage. He wanted to go down to the Brig and make Jos hurt as much as he’d made everyone else feel. He wanted to give the man a fist to the nose and a verbal dress down to make any drill sergeant proud. He wanted to lose control and put the traitor out of everyone’s misery.

_Algaisha – Found on the Rigell Colony Planet. Prune once every day due to massive growth in warm temperatures. Will flower at the first frost and die completely, shortly thereafter. Keep in high humidity for best Oxygenic results._

He knew he wasn’t the only one ready to rip Jos’ head off. He’d caught the gleam in Kirk’s eye when the Recovery Team beamed back. And Chekov had been a sight; had he himself not been so angry, the explosion of Russian expletives from the normally well reserved kid would have been impressively funny.

_Travasia – Classified by iconic starburst silver flowers and golden “streamer” leaves. Lives in high altitudes on most colonies, it originated on a now dead planet, discovered after the alliance of peoples. Water once every two days and only trim when growth exceeds stem capability._

Chekov was deeply hit by the announcement that Mr. Scott had been killed. He’d been at Navigations when the notification went through the ship. Sulu had watched the joking, sly grin slide off into a blank look that would be unreadable to anyone else… but the pilot knew Chekov better than most. He’d seen the devastation there.

The kid had wanted to go planet-side to recover his mentor. Kirk had denied it before the request had been made. And so, Sulu went, a silent promise to do what he could.

_Ziren – Prefers dense soil and rock. Requires barest of light to photosynthesize, and only sparse watering. Originated on Vulcan and is one of the best Oxygen producers yet known. This variety has been modified by Vulcan sciences to survive space travel. Has been known to cross-species with the Fernesce, resulting a toxin producing weed, and so, careful measures must be taken to ensure the two species are never allowed on a single ship. The smallest of spores will allow for breeding, which is why Fernesce has been removed altogether from space travel via Star Fleet Order._

Before he could set foot on the planet, Jos had shown his true colors and fired on Sickbay. The sound of the Code Black klaxon had been startling and took a moment to remember the meaning. Being Command, but not on station, he joined Kirk with the Defense Team that responded to Sickbay.

=/=/=

“Mr. Sulu,” the pilot pivoted in his seat, eyes narrowed as Jim spoke, “Take the Forensics Team Bandi suggests to the planet surface. Meet in Transporter Room 3 in thirty minutes. You’re to observe and assist. You’ll be in charge, but let them do what they need to do.”

“Aye sir.” Hikaru’s eyes met Pavel’s and he gave a tiny, unnoticeable nod to the Navigator that no one else would catch. The younger’s eyes held a hurricane of emotions, the most discernable in that moment being a mix of grief and longing. They’d not spoken a word to each other since the Crew Log had pinged in notification… but the boy was hurt this. In the moment their eyes met, a silent promise passed between them that Sulu would do whatever he could.

He left the Bridge, stiff. There weren’t answers… wouldn’t be. Not until the Forensics Team went over the evidence. And even then, the answers may not amount to much. Mr. Scott and Mr. Strauss were good men, and the entire ship respected and followed them. Strauss was an easy going man who never shirked responsibility and always did the best he could do in whatever scenario he found himself in. He wasn’t overly social, but Sulu had shared a few games of Battle Ship in the Rec-Room with him… as well as a handful of conversations both deep and deeply humorous. And Scotty was just… Scotty. It was hard not to like the Chief Engineer. He told it how it was and though he could spit curses most wouldn’t understand and could brawl with the best of them, he had an almost springy personality and could have even the blackest of moods replaced with hearty laughter.

“Commander Bandi,” he called, striding into the Security Room.

Bandi was a short woman with a tan skin tone, bleached hair with uniform red tips (the only saving grace to staying within Star Fleet Regulation in a sort of underhanded play on the code itself), and a quiet personality. But the woman was known as a Power House, able to wrestle even the strongest of unruly patrons to the ground without help. Always one to get the facts before acting in a situation, she was alternatingly liked and disliked, some believing her method to be far more reactive than it should be in a post such as hers.

But she was smart and experienced, and Pike had chosen her as part of the original crew. Kirk had kept her onboard as well when he’d taken over. “Hello, Lieutenant,” she greeted, standing from behind her desk. “How can I assist you?”

“Captain Kirk placed me in charge of a Forensics Away Team to recover those planet-side. Who would you recommend on this mission?”

Bandi appeared to slowly absorb the information, then tapped her tablet. “I have several note-worthy members you could bring. I trust you have not labeled the ME just yet, either?”

Sulu twitched. “Not yet. Security was my first stop. I and the Team are to meet in Transporter Room 3 in about twenty-five minutes.” A Medical Examiner… of course. The best forensic tool available would be the Examiner… he hadn’t even thought of needing to swing by Medical to assign one…

Bandi smiled lightly, “Of course. Here are the names I’d recommend from the Active Shift who are not tied up on something.” She handed him the tablet before moving back to her chair. The pilot nodded, selecting the names at random before setting the tablet on the desk corner. Bandi sent the notifications from her computer as he highlighted them. “Your team will meet you at TR-3 in fifteen minutes. Good luck.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he strolled out in the direction of Sickbay, mentally going over everything in triplicate.

Dead crewmen waited on the planet. Since Khan, Enterprise had lost two lives. One, Ensign Kapris, was unrecoverable, and lived forever in the memories of all because of it. His frantic calls to be returned to Earth for his father’s sake as he died of acid rain literally eating him away had been heart breaking for the Shuttle Crew that had been stranded on the planet. There had been nothing left by the time the rain let up. And when Enterprise had returned from a rendezvous with the Constellation a day later, not one of them had wanted to talk about it.

Unrecoverable, but always remembered by the Enterprise, if no one else. The people he’d be recovering now would have a more tangible memory. He fervently hoped, anyway. Another body-less memorial would only cripple the crew now.

“Hello, lieutenant,” a female voice said with a smile, drawing him from his thoughts. Beautiful blond nurse with her hair done up in a honeycomb very few could attractively pull off. “Is everything alright?”

‘Not a thing,’ he thought. “I’m in need of an ME to join me on the Away mission.” Her blue eyes went wide, mouth shaping an ‘O’ before resettling into the friendly expression she always wore.

Nurse Chappel was an interesting woman. “Of course. I know Doctor Kretch is off duty… M’Benga could probably go. Doctor McCoy will likely suggest him, as he’s busy with several other engagements already. I’ll send him a note.” McCoy would probably have gone himself. As much as he hated Alien Worlds and Space, he hated to send others in his stead more. Especially in caring for crew, dead or alive.

“I need them at TR-3 in fifteen-twenty minutes.”

She nodded again. “Alright. They will do so.”

Sulu returned the nod and turned sharply on his heel. He liked Sickbay enough… he just didn’t like it at current. There were a few more people in residency than normal, presumably due to the malfunctions Enterprise experienced. And he just didn’t want to face that. Not now.

His next agenda was to gather his necessary supplies. Most were in his quarters: survival suit, survival gear, his katana, a few medical supplies he’d likely never use, and his issued Tri-Corder, also likely never used. Changing and re-checking everything, he then recovered a phaser (standard issue) from his lock box and went to Transporter Room 3.

Despite being three minutes early, Security still beat him on scene. As did Captain Kirk. However, Doctor Sekotra arrived exactly as told. The Captain smiled. It wasn’t a true smile… more of one who was only doing so for pretense, resulting in a wolfish grimace more than conveying ease. The hunch in his shoulders didn’t help much.

“Thank you all for your timely arrivals. You’re all aware of your duties, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why you’re assembled.” Kirk’s voice was hard and lacked any of the boyish charm he usually flaunted. His eyes were icy and he was still and serious. “You need to exude caution. Quazarti has proven –“

_**Be oo eeep**_!

Sulu’s eyes were on the Klaxon the moment the god awful noise sounded, though what it was didn’t immediately register. The Alert lights weren’t standard red or yellow, and the continuing sound wasn’t one normally heard. Black light purple blinked on the Panels instead and the meaning had him frozen: Code Black… ship-wide enemy with friendlies down or dead. Normally code for aggressive intruder.

“Bridge! Report!” Kirk snapped, loudly. His voice carried well over the loud screeching. But he suddenly appeared deadly; the black glint in his eyes taking over without remorse.

“/Captain,/” Spock sounded tense. “/Sickbay has called Code Black and system scanners that are operating are indicating critically injured./”

“Myself and the Away Team are enroute.”

“/Bandi has already dispatched a Tactical Team to intercept./”

“Good. We’ll meet ‘em there.”

Kirk took lead as they ran. The halls were quieter than normal, and they were free to pound through with hardly any caution as they headed for the lift. Personnel were sequestering away in Safe Zones, each armed should the intruder come on to them. Only necessary staff in sensitive areas remained on duty, and that made travel all the easier.

All six of them piled into the Turbo Lift and Kirk jammed the call button for Medical. Even the lift had an ominous feel, the alert lights eerie in close quarters. The small space spoke volumes, and one of the Away Team fidgeted beside Sulu, obviously nervous.

Sulu kept his eye on the door, ignoring all but the tones of an order. The idea of hand to hand was no stranger to him… he’d been in more than one on Enterprise. New recruits were still mesmerized by the tale of a Romulan Battle high in Vulcan’s atmosphere and his proverbial “save the day” for Kirk. That memory still got his heart pumping with heavy adrenaline.

But he’d been in other fights, too. The Mudd Incident, as it was dubbed, had ended in quite a brawl. Not to mention the debacle of Taluros 5, where one wrong word sparked a proverbial World War. Taluros 5 was the turning point in his respect for Uhura. He’d always known she was capable: she did beam down to a Trash Hauler in the middle of a super-human fist fight between her Vulcan boyfriend and Khan… her actual skill emerged, as well as her epic anger/temper. Some members of the Security Force who’d been there practically worshipped the Linguist.

And who could forget Kadaphrite? The ancient colony no one knew about that adopted the practices of Ancient Greece; Sparta in particular. They’d seen Kirk as a reincarnation of Napoleon and declared war on Star Fleet. They’d deployed some impressive jammers that cut Comms between the Away Team and Enterprise until Scotty’d scrambled the Colony’s computer network and they’d beamed out. The battle had been glorious, nonetheless… swords, blood, battle axes and a Trojan Horse. Right out of a damn History Pad.

Nothing could shake his trust in Captain Kirk at this point.

Entering Sickbay was an entirely different experience. It was a blast of icy water as they stepped into a localized warzone. The lights were out, and the smell… tangy, metallic and hot. It was a hard reality to walk into.

Literal gun shots sounded at random, and the entire team ducked, fanning out as they entered. Tactical hadn’t arrived yet, leaving the six man team against whatever faced them. Technically five… Doctor Sekotra didn’t really count as a fighter. Already, the medic was scanning a woman without any notice of his surroundings, and it was at that moment Sulu really acknowledged the situation.

All around the deck were bodies. And they weren’t just bodies. They were Sickbay personnel. The woman Sekotra knelt beside was the friendly Nurse Chappel, and she was bleeding from a stomach wound. Not twenty feet away from him, in an unprotected, open area, was Doctor McCoy, M’Benga not two feet from him, both unconscious and bleeding with hypos in hands like they’d been phasers.

Okay… maybe Sulu was a little rattled.

“Sulu,” Kirk hissed, barely loud enough to draw the pilot’s notice. A cacophony of hand signals later, Kirk vanished from sight entirely, as did two of the Security personnel from their team. Sulu eyed McCoy and M’Benga. Orders were to surround the culprit and over take him. Bullets (and the plinking sound identified them as real, bonifide metal and lead bullets) were still flying and ricocheting from seemingly random locations.

He motioned the other Security Officer over and scurried out to remove McCoy from harm’s way. The other did the same for M’Benga without question; and then, they were gone.

They slipped around Bio-Beds, poised for return fire. Slowly ducking and rolling around Sickbay. It almost felt like a child’s game of adult-level advanced Leap Frog. If not for the seriousness, he would have grinned at how stupid it felt and made a mental note to make mention of it in training.

As it was, he’d have to practice these maneuvers in the future; bring Chekov and have a contest of who could beat who to the end and win. After all, Chekov was amazingly resourceful.

It was over in less than a minute.

Kirk and his two-man entourage distracted the shooter long enough for Sulu and… Bradley to fire on him. He dropped like a stone. And no one moved. He was dressed in Star Fleet Blacks, the under-armor for ship duties. But that was far from all.

Somewhere in the din of silence, the Tactical Team arrived.

Kirk remained blank, staring coldly at the stunned form of a fellow crewman. Sulu didn’t allow his own myriad of emotions to show either. Bradley sneered in disgust. The Mobian form of a fellow Security Officer was hardly what a single one of them were expecting.

“Jos…” someone whispered in disbelief.

“Kirk to Spock.”

“/Go Captain./”

“We have Medical secured. Anyone with advanced first aid or more is ordered to get down here. We have a lot of wounded.”

“/Acknowledged./” Code Black’s Klaxons blared a moment with a bong-like overtone, and quieted all around the ship. It was a surreal moment as half of Sickbay’s lights came on once more.


	4. War Spray

The report of events had been given right here in Medical. McCoy could hardly say he was as unaffected as he wanted to be. Being on a star-ship meant objectivity was a foreign concept, even if it was expected. With a full team of Med-Techs, it should have been easy to ignore "friendships" with any one crew member.

Space was difficult. Death, Disease and Danger – it was his mantra. People died routinely in the black. Sometimes doing the most routine of simple duties. It happened.

But it became hard to compartmentalize. McCoy was already screwed if ever Jim happened to die again… but he believed he was fine other than the handicap of having his _best friend_ on the same ship. He wasn't overly social. He only mingled with the other Medical Staff, and even then it was only every now and again.

He'd been completely unprepared at the report Lieutenant Jos gave Lieutenant Commander Bandi. He'd expected there was search in progress for the missing parties of the Away Team.

"-when we met up and returned to the base alcove, we found Mr. Scott and Mr. Strauss dead, and the Array Mr. Scott had been working on, damaged beyond our collective know-how to fix. So we returned to the surface and found a –"

 _Dead_.

McCoy had paused in his scanning of Jenson to process the sentence. And that was when he realized objectivity was a commodity that space didn't afford. Because despite his efforts and lack of un-duty related contact, he had a _ring of friends_ that encompassed more than just Jim.

He was forced, in that moment, to acknowledge that he had friends, and now one of those friends was dead. And there was no super-human antidote to death like there'd been when Jim had died. This time, there was no second chance. No catch-all. Scotty was dead and it was only in death that McCoy admitted that the damn cheeky Scotsman had weaseled his way through his self-induced cold exterior, just as the others in his damned _circle_.

It left him stunned, and he turned his patient over to Nurse Chapel so that he could remove himself from public view and regain his sense of control.

Jim dying had been the worst thing he'd had to face. Since coming to Enterprise, colleagues asked if it was wise to work so close to a friend from Academy when he was Captain and McCoy was Medical. He'd always been a firm believer that Jim was stubborn enough to outwit what came for him, and that McCoy himself could fix whatever he didn't avoid. They were a pair, and a damned good one.

The last thing he'd expected was a Warp Core misalignment and Jim rushing into radio-active containment with no time for proper protective gear. There was no way to quickly fix that sort of damage. Not when decontamination was still in progress when the patient _died_.

The image of Jim still and not breathing when the bag was pulled back was one that still manifested in his nightmares. Because there were no options left. There were no known medical procedures he could perform to bring Jim back to life. All there was, then, was autopsy, because Star Fleet was methodical and wanted the technical aspects of everything.

But this? Now? Was even worse. A man he'd never admitted to being a friend was dead on foreign soil by natives no one'd known even existed. Jim had defied death because of sheer desperation and a unique circumstance (ironically, a circumstance that had killed him in the first place). There were no second chances now. Star Fleet had banned the use of the Super-Serum after Jim's (and technically, one Tribble, who was also still located on board) revival, even if it could be synthesized from his own blood after all of this time.

Scotty (and when had he begun to use the nickname Jim had taken to calling the Engineer? Hadn't he refused personalization?) did not have a chance. He was lost on enemy, clearly hostile (and Star Fleet, Prime Directive and lack of Technologies be damned) planet. And hours had long passed before the two men had found the bodies.

A nightmare. Space was a god-damned nightmare. He couldn't handle Jim's short term death, and he knew he wouldn't be much better now. He'd see about another staff member performing the autopsy.

Maybe he'd see about a transfer? Four more years of uncharted space with a Command Staff of friends would only lead him to his own early grave. Because space was cruel and unforgiving and death was constant that would follow like a damned shadow. Watching them die around him…

 **Crack**!

His head shot up with the loud, reverberating crack. Far from a normal sound in Sickbay, he was instantly worried. Distantly, he was concerned over how long he'd sequestered himself in his office and not kept an eye on things. He stood quickly from his desk, swiping his eyes to clear the blur.

Screams and shouts sounded from all over. Panic and confusion turned the normally quiet and organized Sickbay into a battleground. Worse was finding the still form of Nurse Joyce, no longer bleeding from the laceration to her carotid artery, green eyes staring in surprise, unseeing, to the ceiling.

Part of him wanted to check and double check… make sure she wasn't… that he could save her… the rest of him, the physical, reactive part of him, hunched and growled like a wild animal, and he sprang for the console some feet away and smacked it. Sickbay dimmed to low lighting even as he punched the Emergency Call and shouted the type for the Computer to send out. "Code Black!" his voice was rough and dangerous.

He sensed M'Benga before he saw him. His colleague and friend slipped a hypo into his hands and pulled him down, seemingly just in time as the console erupted in a series of plinks and sparks. The hypo was a familiarity in his grasp, and he knew it likely carried a strong sedative or something equally effective in downing the enemy. All they needed to do was find the damn culprit.

Which was easier said than done.

It was frightening. He made no claim to contrary. It was one thing to be on an alien planet with the locals trying to kill you… it was another altogether to be on your own ship… in your own damned Sickbay; the place the injured and weary turned to for peace and comfort. It was like the universe had tilted, forsaking safety for firefight.

All around, bodies were hitting the floor. And it took every ounce of will power to hold himself back. He was supposed to heal them. But in this moment, Academy and Boot Camp Training surged up and told him to neutralize the threat. The injured or dead couldn't be helped more than to remove the aggressor.

Aggressors. Plural. Three to be exact. And they were all Enterprise crewmen to boot. And that was the factor that had him hesitating. He paused his arms, hypo an inch from the neck of Jos, suddenly reeling from the entire chain of events and unable to reconcile an ally as being capable of destroying the proverbial Safe House of a star-ship in such a bold, effective manner.

The sharp sting of metal in his shoulder blade cut him from his spiraling thoughts with sharp clarity. Jos betrayed the Away Team. Jos killed Scotty on that planet. Had there even been natives? Or was that fabrication to cover the committed act? How could Jos… Jos' own best friend had been struck down by a bullet not twenty seconds ago! Had… he really…

=/=/=

Chekov stared at the stars. The patterns were different than he'd grown up with, but that didn't bother him so much, now. The stars gave him a sense of peace he didn't realize he'd lost. Twinkling…

In a matter of hours, everything he'd felt safe in…was gone.

Jenson was dead. An additional body to the Morgue… another lost friend. Jos was a traitor, held in the Brig. Friends he'd trusted back in Academy… when trust rare and he was the youngest in a crowd of two-thousand people. It'd been luck that placed them all on Enterprise in the race to Vulcan…

Gone.

Scott was an inspiration. Chekov was considered a prodigy with Navigations, but Engineering had always fascinated him. Escaping the black hole, Narada, had only cemented the technological pull. And Mr. Scott had shown him… taught him with no strings attached, only happy to share his craft in a manner most would have trouble believing.

All he had now… were stars.

Sickbay was in shambles. Only Doctor Sekotra had been unscathed in the attack. Every other medical officer were in Bio-Beds… some comatose and others unable to move… recovering from injuries. Or they were dead.

Engineering was a mess. While the repairs were daunting, the trauma was taking a toll. The duties of Chief fell to Keenser when Scotty had taken the mission. Keenser had been unseen since the news broke, and no one was handling it much better.

Enterprise herself just didn't seem to want to be fixed if Mr. Scott weren't there… leaving them stuck in place.

And Security… faith in the department dropped exponentially in less than twenty-four hours. The department that safe guarded the ship integrity was responsible for all of it. How had a traitor infiltrated ranks, avoided cameras, infected the ship, killed the Chief Engineer, crippled Sickbay… it was unfathomable.

Enterprise was the furthest a Star Fleet ship had ever been. They were too far from relay stations. Subspace Comms would take weeks. Trapped with no feasible escape. They had time to find the whys everyone desperately wanted to hear.

Sulu was down in Hydroponics. Had been since returning from Quazarti's surface. Would probably be so for yet more hours. Hydroponics was Hikaru's safe haven.

The Observation Deck was his.

He stretched out under the clear window, arms under his head, just as he'd done on a grassy hill when he'd been growing up. The stars wouldn't turn him away. Nor would they welcome him, of course, but he felt more at home here sometimes than he did in his own quarters.

Technically, he'd been off duty when Sickbay had been sacked. But his Command status had him still there. Just as it required Spock. And Sulu. And Uhura. And now, he was tired… but he couldn't find the strength to sleep.

So he simply stared at the stars.

=/=/=

_Personal Log:_

_The plan is working perfectly. Not one of the hapless children that run this glorious ship have realized. I can't honestly believe it all fell so perfectly into place. I couldn't have planned the Captain's Physical Exam if I'd tried. Sending Mr. Scott in his place only helped. He was the one obstacle I wasn't sure I could get around, and he was taken out of the equation for me. And the natives… Jos did so very well with them._

_Finally, after much waiting and planning, I can finally take the Enterprise. The Empire awaits, and this can finally over with. All that's left is to take out the rest. As the Transporters are still experiencing technical issues (after the S &R Team returned, they put on a rather vibrant display of electricity… and that smell of burning…); a perk to having taken out the Chief Engineer early on is that no one else is very good with the damn thing.. it'll be easier._

_I'll have to take deck by deck. Enterprise needs a good venting anyway._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everywhere you see the break was written to be its own chapter. Obviously I didn't follow through with that initial process. I tried in each section to give an idea of when the section takes place... At some point I'll update with Stardates and times (once I really set myself on looking them up. I get confused between the Star Trek incarnations. I've most recently watched Voyager, and so, those dates are most prominent in my head). If it's confusing, let me know and I can try to fix the problem.


	5. Five

“This is hopeless,” it said again.  
It was like a whisper he could barely hear. It said very little or spoke in volumes so quickly he nearly had trouble following. Normally in reference to Enterprise. It spoke on how to repair the fried circuit he needed in order to perform this duty or that. It explained why the console an Ensign was having trouble was malfunction and how to fix it.  
But steadily, the whisper was fading… losing hope. Or purpose. Which it was, wasn’t clear. There was distinct frustration at times, and plain sadness in others. Subtle tests had yielded nothing. Yet he knew there was a presence. It hovered sometimes, just within his senses, and it would leave at random whenever he crossed paths with someone.   
Science and Logic said he should be medically checked for sign of fatigue or illness. But, in a way that made no sense, his Vulcan-half was the side that told him there was nothing to worry about. Not in that sense, anyway.  
It was worrisome, however. It rankled at him that he couldn’t even explain why. There was no explanation of what the voice was. It wasn’t logical. It had no reason.  
The tone in the whispered sentence was dull, and it put him instantly on edge. In the twenty-four hours the voice had come and gone, he’d never heard that voiced emotion. And he didn’t like the implications, even if he didn’t understand it.  
His senses were tingling. Had been for exactly ten minutes thirty-two seconds. Just as they always did when this presence was close by. As they did whenever his fingers brushed a focal point on another being. Like a mind was so close to his own, and yet so far. Were this a physical presence, he’d have ordered the offender as far from him as possible.   
Scientific curiosity was all that washed through him, now. This presence didn’t seem to realize how invasive it was… it was simply drifting. That Spock was aware of it was hardly anyone’s fault.  
Not that he told it outright. He fully wished to understand it before opening contact. He wondered, at first, if it’d been some form of glitch, back when he’d first heard it in the Rec-Room with the Captain. It knew Enterprise and her crew. But it didn’t hint at destruction; instead lamenting the damage and morale.   
It’d vanished from his senses. The suddenness had made him twitch. How odd that he found himself reaching out mentally, as if to call it back. Like the empty silence was so unexpected…  
This is hopeless.  
He could almost hear it. Familiar, even in its immense unknown. Hopeless. Hopeless was a word dead men used at that pivotal moment when they gave up in a situation. Hopeless led to destroyed starships and loss of life.  
This is hopeless.  
His eyes opened in a snap. Because recognition finally seeped in via his memory. He knew the voice. The sentence was foreign, but he knew it, regardless. The question was: How?  
Meditating wasn’t helping. Physically finding the presence may answer more than simply listening. And so, he stood, and casually exited his room.

=/=/=

Gone were the days of innocence.  
Patients fidgeted now. In the face of what happened, they couldn’t get past the thought another friend might turn on them… possibly kill them. Four died in the attack on Sickbay. Two were close to death as result, and a myriad were still in induced medical comas.   
Technically, he wasn’t cleared for Active Duty. He was still sporting a goose egg above his eye from his forward fall to the floor, and his shoulder was still heavily wrapped in gauze. The re-generator had glitched as well, and the portable ones drained from the haphazard use non-medical personnel had used to save them all. Sickbay couldn’t fall to just one doctor. Not in the disarray and sheer amount of patients… and Sakotra had only leveled a look on him before simply continuing on.  
The psych-staff would have a busy time after this… once they were physically sound, of course. While people tended to skirt the idea of mental health entirely, moments like these would bring a few disaster related patients in. The psych-staff themselves may need some therapy of their own.  
“Doctor…”  
“Hello Christine. Relax. I’m only here to make sure you have a little food or water.” The nurse blinked at him, eyes glazed in a tell-tale sign that her medication was working.  
“Thank you,” she said graciously, accepting the water. And then she really looked at him. “You alright?” her brow creased as her blue eyes lingered on his brow.  
“Just a tiny bump. It’ll go away soon enough. How’s your stomach feeling?”  
“M’fine…”  
Chuckling to himself, he gave a small nod. “Alright then. Call me if that changes.” Doctors made the worst patients. Nurses weren’t much better. Keeping them in bed long enough to heal would be tricky. And with the doctors and nurses jumping ship, the other patients would be a handful as well. Especially with limited staff.  
But he’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, all he could do was continue checking patients and eventually send Sekotra to rest a few hours. One step at time.

=/=/=

Jos wasn’t talking. It didn’t seem to matter what the Captain threatened. They all knew that the truth was… nothing he could legally do had any weight. Something turned Jos, and he was either so loyal, or so afraid, that he wouldn’t budge.  
It was frustrating. Really and truly. Jos was the only lead there was to answers. The Mobian was the only one who could point repairs in the right direction by explaining in full detail exactly what had been done to the ship. Jos was the only one that had who could say why.  
Pointless and senseless. That was what the deaths amounted to. They died for no real identifiable reason. They simply were alive, and then they were dead.   
“Because a friend went crazy.”  
That drew the amber eyes from their quiet stare at the wall unto Jim’s smoldering blue gaze. A nerve? Jos still said nothing, simply seeing the Captain in the first real acknowledgement of his presence since being confined.  
“Because that’s what happened.” He felt like he was performing a monologue. “Someone these people, my people, trusted with their lives and called a friend for two years, suddenly went crazy. The stress was too much. Someone picked at an old mental wound. Confines of unexplored space grew overwhelming… it doesn’t matter. What the truth of it is, you killed friends and family with your actions.” He stared at the carefully crafted soldier expression. “You made a mistake. This whole thing.”  
Jos remained still.  
“You should be aware, as, while I’m sure you meant to cause as much trouble as you could, you still care. Your actions have led to reckless endangerment of my crew. My family. And my ship. You took the lives of precious people, and incurred my unforgiving wrath. But while I can’t act on my wants and desires, maybe the reality of your own will sink in.”  
Jos’ eyes slid back to the wall.  
“So I’ll name them. Every member of my family you took in whatever selfishness you felt was owed. Your negligence on Quazarti took the lives of two Engineers. Erik Strauss; a quiet but hard working technician with a skill-set equipped to handle more science-related studies on alien planets. His birthday would have been in a week. He has a daughter onboard who’s been sequestered in her quarters since hearing the news. And Montgomery Scott was the smartest Engineer I’ve ever met. He was also a very close friend of mine. He, while you left the relocation zone without authorization, was busy working on a way to re-establish contact with Enterprise and return home. Because you ordered Jenson away from his perimeter sweep, something he had gained permission to do, you left them wide open and defenseless. You admitted that yourself.  
“But then you were in Sickbay for post-mission checkups and you attack the people who are on a starship to keep you alive.”  
Jim’s tone remained aloft, but his glare deepened to show the true depths of his condemnation. “You and two others; Tianna Evans and Darren Thomas, who both were in Sickbay for injuries related to equipment malfunction during the cyber-attack; you open fired with old fashioned, long banned weaponry. In those moments of initial confusion, you killed Renee Joyce, a nurse who’d only just begun her career. You shot, point blank in the temple, Robert Powell, a doctor near retirement who’d only ever done what he could to heal. You took the life of a “sprite full” young woman stationed on Deck 8, who’d based in Xeno-Linguistics, Carly Anderson.”  
Jos’ lack of response lessened slightly as names were disclosed for the first time. Of course he’d known them. Security personnel were the faces that were everywhere. They knew everyone.  
“Thirteen men and women are laid up in Sickbay because of your Rampage.” He wanted to snarl. He wanted to growl and lash out. “There were fourteen.” Amber eyes slowly slid back to the Captain. “Connor Jenson died of a gunshot injury to the chest cavity about six hours ago.”  
The Mobian’s eyes widened then, if only slightly. But it was a reaction nonetheless. Spock had been right. Mentioning Jenson’s fate was probably the biggest blow they could deliver.   
“Conner is dead?” the question was quiet, and it took a moment for Jim to realize it had been posed. But he did, and he nodded, showing the man no sympathy.   
“Yeah. Footage showed you didn’t hit him. Thomas did, as he peppered the Sickbay in the opening act. Nurse Chappel prolonged his life by stopping the early symptoms of shock, but before she could do more, a bullet from your gun found her stomach. Jenson lost too much blood and Oxygen, and without that immediate help that you denied, he lost brain function and later succumbed.” It was difficult to speak like this about something so close to home, even having steeled himself.  
A tear slipped from Jos before the soldier façade slipped over again. Jim cocked his head. “Connor had no idea you would do this. You left him in the dark. You killed him.”  
“He wasn’t supposed to be there.” The snapping of the string.  
“You murdered him! You murdered every single one of the people in storage!”  
Jos surged to his feet, amber eyes glinting in the harsh light of the Brig. “Connor was supposed to be on shift in the Labs! I didn’t know he’d be with us on planet until he stepped on the Pad. It was supposed to be Evans down there!” He motioned wildly with his arms. “He was supposed to be safe! But then we were away, and we were in motion. I kept him as safe as I could. And then he went and left the Alcove, and I called him away to help look for a better shelter, which we needed anyway because the Transporter put us in the middle of a cliff face four hundred feet from the ground and three hundred feet from the pinnacle.”  
“So you played Connor Jenson just like you played us all. Why?” Jos blinked, then sat down again. Visibly rattled, but once more, the soldier-blankness masked his face. Jim didn’t lessen his glare. “The Hell are you so afraid of? It can’t be loyalty. Not after loyalty killed your friend –“  
“Brother,” Jos hissed, lips moving in his native cadence under the universal translator. “He was my brother. The only one I trust. And we are done talking.”  
“Jos, we’ve only just begun.”

=/=/=

Being a ghost was highly inconvenient. He was able to get around easy enough, once the mechanics were thoroughly tried and true, sure. But there was no way to do anything but watch and listen. He couldn’t access databanks and attempt diagnosing his own condition. He couldn’t pick up a tool and fix the multitude of problems with ship.  
He wondered if maybe being tapped in the cave would have been preferable. Seeing Enterprise sabotaged from within… seeing the aftermath of what sounded like a brutal assault in Sickbay…   
The people he respected and worked with were floundering. Not a single person onboard was unaffected. The medical staff were the people everyone knew by necessity. Friendly and dedicated. If Command was considered Enterprise’s brain, and Engineering her vital organs, then Medical was her immune system, keeping the staff that made her metaphorical blood happy and healthy. This entire situation had left Enterprise sick and vulnerable.  
He learned a lot about the full scope during his time wandering the ship. He’d heard many cries of why and spouts of frustration. He could only offer to listen. He couldn’t respond when someone blurted out their deepest thoughts or feelings.  
And relationships became pretty clear, also. Which was a nice way to distract himself from the gloom around him. Picking up on romantic tensions was far easier when no one realized he was there. More than once, he’d left what was normally a public space for the sake of giving privacy to surprise couples.  
But overall, it was annoying. He could easily spot the problems and knew that the fix should be two minutes and a fresh part or two, but the problems lingered… taunting him. His staff, normally so adept, were bumbling around without direction. He could list the step by step for the Turbine Control. He could take one look at the Transporters and diagnose that the coils were shorted and new connectors in the Interface wouldn’t hurt either. More than once he found himself shouting at a technician to do it right the first time, given the same tech was making mistake after mistake on everything he touched… it was apparent his mind was elsewhere, but bloody annoying!  
No one heard him. Which, he knew. It had become pretty obvious when he’d stared himself down on the planet surface. No one would hear him, ever. It was a known fact the dead couldn’t communicate with the living. But what was this existence if he couldn’t somehow point these people in the right direction?  
He’d screamed as loud as he could. Whispered in people’s ears. Tried talking to them in their sleep. Nothing worked.  
He couldn’t even get warm. He couldn’t generate enough friction in his own hands to heat a finger. There was no pressure. He couldn’t feel anything. Just the tell-tall sense of gravity and the inability to pass through certain things like some walls or the floor.  
It all seemed so pointless. Nothing he said could get through to the people he cared about. He couldn’t help them. He couldn’t help himself. “This is hopeless.” He’d said it as more of a whisper to himself. He’d sat himself down against the bulkhead, simply because in that moment, he’d lost all drive to continue his blind path through the corridors. Thoughts racing… he’d given up.  
Given up.  
Given up.  
His eyes glared at the far wall of the corridor. He was a damned Scott. Scotts did not give up. He just needed to keep…  
Who was he kidding?  
He pushed himself back up. Hopeless. He’d tried everything, and no one had acknowledged him. He didn’t technically exist. The only thing he could do was listen. If on some basic level, he could be the ear these people didn’t actively seek out, but needed anyway.   
He couldn’t help, but… maybe it would be enough.

=/=/=

Nyota cringed at the look on Spock’s face. He didn’t acknowledge her as they passed each other; continuing for where ever it was he deemed important.  
Every part of her wanted to know that lack of response was due to the situation. Spock was prone to a sense of duty that left no room for illogical emotive ques. She’d known that years ago, when they’d begun their relationship. She’d known it before that. And still… it bothered her when he ignored her.  
She doubted that he’d say a word to her not duty-related until Enterprise was back in working order and the investigation concluded. Maybe not until after the trial. Maybe…  
She’d had enough of maybe. Maybe was all she heard, all over the ship. Internal frequencies spewed “maybe” like candy. Physical interactions were the same. Maybe, maybe, maybe.  
-Maybe when we get the ship running -  
-Well… maybe. I’ll see if I can -  
-If we can establish a call with HQ. But with everything as glitched as it is… maybe.-  
Morale was fading. She was of the impression that Engineering wasn’t even trying anymore. Every one of the men and women she’d come in contact with were shells of their former selves. Everyone skirted Security like Necrotian Plague Outposts, warily eyeing the people who’d risked their lives more than any other department in existence.  
And Command. The Bridge crew were silent. No jokes, no sly looks, no hidden meanings… all business. The glue that had adhered to the senior staff on that very first mission against Nero, was peeling. The Captain didn’t have some hairball scheme and was consistently tense and pensive. Spock was uncharacteristically silent on everything, only speaking when asked directly. Sulu and Chekov…  
The pilot and navigator were usually the hub of conversation. In their time on Enterprise, it was often the two who sparked light-hearted moments, often a dry comment that was instantly rebutted… now, they were stone faced, spouting only numbers and facts. When Sulu’d been sent to Quazarti, Chekov had completely closed off.  
She slipped quietly through Sickbay, partly wondering what she was doing and why she wasn’t checking on the people laid up within.   
But even Sickbay was melancholy and dreary. Expected, given the events… but hardly welcomed. She didn’t think she could take anymore war expressions and cautious words dancing around the heart of the problem. She knew the problem. It was as plain as the sharp features of a Vulcan. No one was coming to the rescue out here. People were dead, and the rest were dying in front of her. And she had no idea how to stop it.   
It was a slow death. A premature, mentally agonizing, death. Betrayal wasn’t new… Admiral Marcus had been the one to steal the initial title… They’d all nearly died… they’d lost a few lives then, too.  
Swoosh.  
The tube slid out and she was blasted by frigid air. Almost immediately, tears flooded her vision.   
He really could have been sleeping. Ice clung to his hair and eyelashes, yes, but he could easily have been simply unconscious. Dark circles around closed eyes and impossibly pale skin… no one had changed his outfit, and the evidence of his death still impaled his chest. No one’d performed autopsy yet. There’d been no time.  
It was difficult to decide whether the raw, unedited sight was better or worse, for her. To see the discoloration on the Engineering-red uniform in such quantity… the broken stubs… the frozen face of a fallen friend…  
Why had she come here?  
Nothing would be the same, now. This would be the cementing force. Some part of her had naively chosen to believe Scotty was tucked away in some corner of Engineering no one’d been able to find… or that he’d been injured, but alive, and awaiting treatment in one of the many occupied Bio-Beds.  
But his chest was unnaturally still, and he was frozen to temperatures a human couldn’t survive without a flash-freeze/unfreeze device. Despite whatever hope she may have held, Montgomery Scott wasn’t going to perform a miracle this time.  
And that was heart-wrenching.

\\\\\

A/N: I'm sorry for not updating. Kinda got side tracked and forgot all about the fact I haven't posted anything at all. I haven't even read through this to remember what title I'd given the chapter. I'll fix that... but yeah. Have an update. =)


	6. Six

“Bandi’s making her move.”  
“When?”  
He listened… horrified and unable to warn a soul.   
“Dunno. Just suggested to have survival suits ready.”  
“That won’t look suspicious or anything.”  
Because there was a troop… not a single person.  
“Maybe not.”  
“Stay as close to quarters as you can. That’s the only way.”  
They were going to kill everyone.  
“Wait for the signal.”  
“Understood.”  
And there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

=/=/=

He hadn’t expected her to be there when he arrived. It was a distraction, and he stared at her curiously. She stared right back, startled. Her eyes were wet with fresh tears, and her breathing was hitched. “Spock…” she whispered.  
“Nyota, what are you doing?” It was fascinating and morbid. She was caught, staring at a dead comrade. Was he not, ultimately, about to do the same? How illogical it was, now, in hindsight.  
Her tears only intensified, and she made a small noise. She wavered in place, seeming uncertain and guilty to be caught in the act. And then, she lunged, desperately grabbing for his shirt as he moved to embrace her in the manner humans preferred. She buried her nose in the crook of his shoulder, tears wetting the black undershirt.  
He let her cry.  
His eyes focused on the sole removed body, cataloguing what was visible. It wasn’t adding up, and he frowned, running through the events that led him to come here. Suddenly renewed in his original mission, he gently removed Nyota, eyes not leaving the man in question.  
His girlfriend watched his movement in sadness and displacement. He ignored her look, brow furrowing. Every spec of data he knew, he re-examined in his mind. His fingers reached out of their own accord.  
The skin was far too cold. It nearly had him back tracking. But there was… a presence there, just out of his mind’s reach, just as there’d been since all of this had started. But now, it wasn’t fleeting…  
His eyes widened as he jerked his fingers away from the contact. Nyota stared at him still, unreadable expression having overcome her tears. It didn’t suit her at all.  
Mr. Scott was alive.  
Nyota could read him better than anyone, and his expression must have conveyed it to her, as, her eyes lit with what could only be hope. She was disbelieving, staring at the Engineer from where she stood. Spock hit the computer console nearest to him. “Spock to Doctor McCoy.” If his voice was broken, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.  
“McCoy here.” The Doctor had activated his duty roster nearly ten hours ago. He sounded exhausted.  
“Respond to the Morgue, please. You have a patient in dire need of emergency assistance.” Nyota, in that moment, snapped from her trance and scrambled for the nearby first aid kit. Spock hurried to assist her.  
“The Mor – what exactly are you playing at?”  
“Doctor, just hurry!” Nyota ordered, her own voice squeaking. They pulled the activated heating blanket and got it over the engineer. And Spock heard the quiet, singular beat of an additional heartbeat and he caught a tiny fraction of movement in the man’s chest.  
Alive. Tri-Corders had somehow missed the signs. An anomaly he would look into when the situation wasn’t quite so pressing. After all, Scott had survived the incident in miraculous fashion, but delay or misstep could easily turn the fortune.  
Another anomaly was to figure out how he’d known this all along. It’d taken time for him to catch up with what his instincts had known, but it’d been right. The presence had been Mr. Scott. The how’s and why’s didn’t matter so much now, but he’d be looking into them later.  
McCoy swept in with a hard look. At first, not believing, his eyes displayed grief and carefulness in regards to their actions. But he took in the same features that had caught Spock’s own eye. The lack of death in the dead face. Even in cold storage aboard a starship, the amount of time, planet-side and aboard, there should be signs. Discoloration… pooling… normally those would be the most adamant. Decomposition was extreme on a starship, but not unheard of. Minus the ice, Mr. Scott appeared deathly ill. And he had personally heard Sulu mention the blotches on Strauss.  
McCoy took it all in. One moment, he studied. And then his jaw dropped, horrified. Fire reached his eyes, and then he was shouting medical terminology like a high powered auto-slinger. His fatigue vanishing with a second wind, and he grabbed at the rails of the Morgue-sheet and routed it back to the main Sickbay.  
The moment the emerged, McCoy still shouting medical stats to himself, the deck went absolutely silent, all curious eyes seeing the body, then realizing McCoy was calling living stats. In a flash, there were suddenly an abundance of med-techs surrounding them, following unspoken protocols and motions.  
That none of them were cleared to perform anything was long forgotten.  
Slowly, Spock and Nyota were ushered back, allowing the professionals to do what could be done. Nyota clung to Spock, her strength turning to fatigue as the adrenaline faded. Her tears cascaded down her cheeks. Spock watched it all, finding himself with a uniquely human set of emotions.

=/=/=

He couldn’t warn them.  
He’d been yelling it at the captain for the better part of an hour. Jim was normally the most intuitive person he’d ever met… And he had no way to prepare for what was coming if he couldn’t bloody hear him!  
It was like he was caught in sound proof glass, in the middle of a Klingon brawl, with laryngitis.  
And the plan was even coming to light, right under everyone’s noses. He’d caught sight of the silenced Alert on the empty station console before it was erased completely. Life Support on Deck 12 had just gone out. There was approximately ten hours of air, if activities and chatter were kept to a minimum. But he knew something would alter that. Ten hours was more than enough time for someone to find something…  
Deck 9 just lost Life Support.  
“Damn it… Captain!” he whirled, pointing at the screen even as the alert vanished. “Stop looking at the Comms Console! Ya need to see this!” He kicked at the chair Jim’d occupied some time ago. “Would yo listen?? You’re goin’ to die if ya don’ act now!”  
How was Bandi disabling the Alerts? She’d gained Administrative Access? Reverting them from Bridge Consoles and the corresponding Network Tree to a remote, singular location? Whomever she had from Engineering was damn good at programing, and hadn’t shown that level of skill previously.  
“Bludger, Sulu! Chekov, lad, you’ve got ta see something! You’re a bloody whiz with Enterprise…” but Chekov was only staring at the open space and the planet below them. And Sulu wasn’t paying attention to anything. “You’re all gon’ die! E’ry single one a ya! Someone listen to me!”  
No one heard him. And they missed the cut alert for Deck 4.   
He was going to watch these people die. After everything, it would come to end like this.

=/=/=

“Someone listen ta me!” Spock twitched at the panic laced into the frantic whisper. Mr. Scott was anxious. How had it been that he hadn’t figured the source immediately? The whisper had a distinct accent, even in the quietness of his own mind.   
Nyota had long cried herself to sleep. She didn’t move as he carefully repositioned her so that she lay on the Bio-Bed without him.   
The presence was weak. Far weaker than it’d been. He knew it was elsewhere. ‘Bridge,‘ his subconscious told him. But going there wasn’t necessary.  
So he told himself.  
McCoy was still working on the Engineer. A team still surrounded the Bio-Bed as they continued. The arrows were gone. As was the icy sheen to pale skin.  
Not one of them spared Spock notice as he quietly entered the circle, staring at the unconscious man. The staff didn’t seem to realize he was there. If they had, McCoy likely would have threatened him as he insulted his heritage. As it was, he was grateful he unnoticed, as he extended his fingers to the psy-points. The presence tickled his senses, out of reach.  
‘Not good enough.’  
He reached out mentally, just as he’d done without meaning to hours ago. With the physical stimuli, it was affective. The presence startled. ‘My mind to your mind.’  
The planes shifted, and he suddenly had a clarity… everything lay so obvious before him. Everything his instincts had been screaming suddenly clicked into place.  
He could suddenly see the thing that had been haunting the Enterprise for three straight days, as clearly as he could see the medical personnel. The confusion and panic and utter loss was as real as his own emotions. The frustration and continual failure at being seen or heard was palpable.  
‘Why won’t you hear me?’ his mind cried.  
‘I am listening,’ he returned, sensing the wide-eyes surprise. He calmed his responses, sending reassurance through the Meld.  
‘You… are you actually…’ Wonder.  
How fascinating these emotions were. Cumbersome and befuddling… but fascinating. ‘Calm, Mr. Scott. You are projecting loudly.’  
It was hard to maintain a sense of singular self when involved in a Mind Meld. He’d only performed the ancient technique a handful of times, and only as an aggressor, forcing his way in and searching for something or simply attempting to best the other. The mesh of me, I, you, us, them, was intense.  
He wasn’t trying to break this mind. It was already far more fragile that it should have been.  
‘Sorry…’ came a quick apology, sheepish even among the lingering panic. Images came to his mind, oddly disjointed. Screaming and no one’s hearing…  
‘Mr. Scott, calm –‘  
‘Bandi ‘n her brood are goin’ ta kill ya!’ Panic drenched through him again, and more images flashed. ‘Please, she’s cuttin’ Life Support as we speak… who knows wha’ else she’s planning!’ Everything Scott knew, Spock knew. The knowledge was like a flood gate, and the Vulcan fell from the Meld to a cacophony of shouts and hands.  
He sat up, staring at Nyota in confusion. She watched him carefully, one hand on his chest. Faces of the Medical Staff surrounded them, equally worried. In McCoy’s case, he was livid. “Do you realize you just put your life, as well as whatever is left of Mr. Scott’s in danger with your voodoo stunt? You ever –“  
“Spock to Captain Kirk!” he ignored the murderous look McCoy sent him, just as he ignored how shaky his own voice was.  
“/Yeah, Spock, go ahead./”   
“Captain, we have a problem. Life Support is shutting off deck by deck.” That drew a few harried reactions… and ended with himself and McCoy attempting to speak over the other.  
“Captain, Spock is in need of medical evaluation after attempting a dangerous technique –“  
“Mr. Scott has known the culprits for some time –“  
“- and may be –“  
“- we must cut access to ship systems –“  
“- delusional.”  
“ – and evacuate the affected decks.”  
The presence… Mr. Scott… shifted warily on the edge of his senses.  
“/Damn…/” Kirk muttered. “/Sound/-“  
‘He sounds Red Alert and it’s over!’  
“Captain wait!” Spock interjected, heart rate spiking. “You will only warn the ones responsible if you bring attention to their actions!” He felt almost dizzy, trying to sort out the emotions that lingered within him.  
A moment of silence greeted them, then, “/Right. Alright people, I need suggestions./”  
‘Reroute the routines with a ghost signal and disable the Commands with Bridge Override.’  
Others were already speaking, various ideas being tossed around between the Bridge Crew. That frustration and hopelessness bubbled up before Spock could isolate it. Remnants be damned. “Captain, Bandi is not alone in her efforts.”  
Silence once more cut across the link, even as every set of eyes in Sickbay swiveled to him. “/How do you know it’s Bandi?/” Already planning her downfall, Jim sounded emotionless.  
“Mr. Scott,” he replied, ignoring the tangible stun that permeated the comm. “Captain, they will resort to harsher methods if we do not override their access to the ship’s computers. Bandi has a strong hacker on her side. The smallest mistake will tip the scales in her favor.”  
‘Aye, but to say she’s infallible is ta suggest Enterprise is only a bucket’o’bolts.’ It was said tentatively in his ear, a shadow of what would likely have been said were Mr. Scott not half-dead. Spock quirked a brow regardless.  
“I believe you mean, we are more than the sum of our parts.”  
“/Spock?/”  
‘Exactly!’ That sounded more like Mr. Scott.  
“Fascinating.”  
“/Bones… What?/”  
“Damn Vulcans and their voodoo mind tricks…” McCoy grumbled. “I don’t know much more than you, Jim. Spock performed an unauthorized Mind Meld with Mr. Scott as were finishing surgery.”  
Another silence washed over, then, “/… Mr. Scott?/”  
McCoy shook his head, bewildered. “You heard me, Jim. Stubborn Scott is a damn survivor, I’ll give him that. He wasn’t dead when he was brought aboard, just very near to it.” The doctor looked over his shoulder to the bed behind him. “Still is, though he’s stronger than earlier. That poison’s as baffling as a Krubban Lu-Tide on a Christian Holiday.”  
“/Poison? Bones./”  
‘Really, this can wait… Bandi’s only killing Life Support, you know.’  
“Captain I suggest we trick Bandi into believing her actions are successful and cut her access.” He glanced at the Sickbay consoles. “It will require swift action and advanced knowledge of these particular systems.”  
“/You seem in the know. Who can we trust?/”  
The reply was immediate, complete with scoff of distaste. ‘I did na have time to figure out how large the list goes!’  
“At current, seldom few -”  
‘Bridge Crew’s pretty sound, I think.’  
“Aside from those who know at this moment, I suggest not allowing anyone else in on this plan.” Nyota was giving him that unreadable look again. McCoy’s wasn’t much different.  
“/Right. Chekov, you have any idea how to pull off what’s being suggested?/”  
“/N-no sir. I don’t think I’d be… believable, anyway./”  
‘Lad is better ‘n he thinks… I could walk ‘em through it.’  
“As you are rather incapacitated, that may prove difficult. However, as I am able to hear you, you may be able to direct me.”  
‘You- right. Aye, I’ll do that then.’  
“/…Bones./”  
“Like I said, Jim, I don’t have a clue.”  
Spock ignored the stares. “I will be enroute to the Bridge, Captain.”  
“/See you then, Spock./” A hundred questions would likely follow.  
‘Hurry. Bandi’s got a finale in mind, an’ I don’t know when she’ll be debuting it.’

=/=/=

“Bones, he alright?” Kirk drew the attention of everyone the moment he stepped on deck. He had his serious face on. With the ship in a dead lock between Enemy Combatants and the Bridge Crew in a cyber war of firewalls and coding, any trace of the joking, boyish persona Jim was known for was gone.  
This was the first time he’d been back to Sickbay since Code Black. Part of him could still see fallen bodies of the Med Staff in his mind’s eye… and his heart quickened in response despite his best effort. The aftermath… picking up the pieces; that had been difficult.  
Because he hadn’t seen it coming. There’d been absolutely no warning. Just a mission that had tragically gone wrong. Aside from the innocent misfortune of crewmen killed by indigenous life and the impact those deaths would have on those that knew them, they wouldn’t have thought twice. Nothing suspicious to catch Jos’ shooting in the works.  
Nine people were dead. Because someone was pulling strings to achieve a goal he hadn’t uncovered yet. Nine lives ended for no other reason than apparent whim.   
He paused that thought, mentally correcting himself. Eight only, were in the Morgue. After all, Montgomery Scott was suddenly back in the Active Manifest (something only the Bridge Crew were aware of due to the disabling of notification pings via the Hacker), though on Medical Leave of Absence.  
“He’ll recover,” came a haggard voice, and it was only after spying the speaker that he was identified as the Chief Medical Officer.  
Jim caught his gawk. “You look like Hell.” The words tumbled free before he could stop them. McCoy gave him a dark look, only exaggerating the exhaustion and murder in the man’s entire stance. The dark circles, red eyes, diminished reflex and tell-tale hunch and favoring… “You put yourself on Active Duty before you were rightfully cleared, didn’t you?”  
“Don’t you even start.” McCoy turned back to the data pad in his hand, poking at it. “What can I do for you, Jim?”  
There was only one reason he came. And Bones seemed to recognize it after a moment of the Captain trying to figure out how to word his request, as, he pointed to another bed, surrounded by privacy curtains. Jim said nothing. He walked to it in near trepidation.   
Scotty laid there, bundled under Sickback emergency blankets, like an everyday patient. But unlike all of the times the man had been here and Jim’d come to confer with him, blue eyes were closed and the Engineer had the look of sleep; the sarcastic grin and quick wit missing in stark contrast.  
The monitor had stats that appeared promising to an untrained eye, at least.  
“He’s damn lucky, Jim.” The Captain didn’t turn to see Bones, who’d followed him over into the secluded spot. “We’re still studying the compound that covered the arrows, as is the Science Department as a general whole.”  
“Compound?” that’s right… something about poison.  
“Yeah. The arrows were covered in it, and it was thick in Mr. Scott’s blood stream. More than likely, based on my medical opinion and the fact that diluting it has brought Scott’s stats to a less… deathly position, the poison actually saved his life.”  
That did draw his eyes over to his best friend, and his expression conveyed yet more, because McCoy continued, distinctly uncomfortable.   
“Every heart beat and breath from the time the poison entered his body was significantly slower than the previous. Which, in turn, meant less bleeding. Kind of like freezing someone, just slower and still deadly. Too long, and the poison would have stopped his heart anyway. The conditions on the planet were perfect enough to keep him alive, and near as I can tell, putting him in storage slowed the effects and put him into what I can only suggest as a sort of hibernation.”  
“But there are supposed to be fail-safes that keep this from happening.” His buried anger slid back to the fore. “The people who recover a body, scan them. The storage system at the very least is supposed to catch the fact a person is still alive!”  
“It did.” Jim froze, staring wide eyed at the serious look on McCoy’s face. “It did, Jim. But with everything the ship has gone through this week, do you think anyone caught it? No one’s damn well been in the Morgue aside from delivering more bodies. The system unit was a part of the system glitch and wasn’t high priority to fix. When it was activated, it went colder than it should have, but it was still unable to do anything else.”  
He chewed on that. “But he’s alright?”  
“Yeah. So long as whatever you’re doing in Command doesn’t cause a system failure, he’ll be fine. But healing takes time. He was struck with primitive arrows. Two, to be precise, and was left without assistance for several days. We’re doing what we can, and his mind is apparently fine, according to Spock’s privy fingers.”  
Captain Kirk stared at the Engineer, quiet. And then he left without another word.

=/=/=

The entire ship was venting.  
It was Chekov who discovered it, being the most active in the systems that he and Mr. Spock had been steadily fortifying. Together, they had reactivated Life Support in four sectors and blocked access to the ones that had never been shut off. But they’d been so focused, that it’d not fully registered that the attackers were on to them and had switched tactics. Not until a single Alert made it to the Bridge.  
“Keptin!” All eyes landed on the young Ensign, who went stiff in the shoulders. Kirk hadn’t returned just yet, and the tone used was full of disbelief and urgency. “Keptin Kirk! Zey are venting sectors, sir!”  
All at once, the Bridge turned back to their stations, calling necessary data as it flowed through their consoles. Uhura sent a wide Alert to all Personnel to done survival suits or make it to a designated, sealed Shuttle.   
“/Get those bastards identified! That’s a goddamn order!/” The fury was evident with the clip to his words.   
“Captain, I’m not receiving Acknowledgement from anyone on Emergency Broadband,” Uhura called over the cacophony of the Bridge, voice close to trembling. “I think I’ve been blocked.”  
“Affirmative,” Chekov confirmed, grim faced. “Working now to break through!”  
“/Spock, get the damn ship sealed!/”  
“I am attempting to override the code command, Captain, but they appear to be one step ahead. I believe they have switched the initial codist for another.”  
“/Spock!/”  
“We’ve lost Section D-1A to vacuum!” Rand shouted.   
“/Damn it. Sound Red Alert!/” The moment the words came over, the Alert Lights flashed and the Klaxons sounded. “/Give a single flash for Code Black and resume Red Alert!/” As he stepped onto the Bridge, panting from his sprint, the Alerts flashed black light with the odd tone joining the beeps of Red Alert before switching off again. “I want Black flashed every thirty seconds resuming Red immediately after.”  
“Captain, we’re still out of contact with the rest of the ship,” Spock advised. “Alerts are getting through, but we are losing Sectors to space.”  
“Fix it!” Kirk growled. “Uhura, send priority text to all personnel. Find a way to get it to all private comm links.” His glare intensified. “When I get my hands on the ones behind all of this…” said hands clenched tight on his chair arms.  
“Keptin!” Chekov paled to a ghostly color. “Sir… we just lost Sickbay.”


	7. Seven

It was always something. Space was unforgiving. One wrong move, you’re dead. That was why he overall hated space. Too many wrong moves; too many dead faces… Faces he knew. Faces he respected.  
Granted, Jim was a Captain like no other. His style had kept casualties down to a minimum that impressed the Brass on more than one occasion. There would always be injuries, and he’d complain every time a stupid mistake led to one, but they’d only actually lost a handful. And while he hated that anyone died, he knew long ago that it was the nature of space.  
They’d been lucky. As a starship, illness usually ran amuck after visiting Colonies. He’d kept that down by administering proper boosters and immune supplements and hashing the importance of hygiene. Being a starship on a Deep Space Exploration Mission? Entirely different story. So far, they had encountered three alien races, two of which were advanced enough for contact, one thinking of joining and the other signing on immediately. They had surveyed seven Class M planets and two possible resourceful bodies.  
In total, only a small number of illnesses crept up, and only three or four were with something he’d never seen before.  
Perhaps he’d allowed himself to become too lax. Jos turning on Sickbay had rattled him… but really? It had been a sort of wake up call. His dark thoughts, choked with anger and depression had brought him head long into the damn firefight that crippled them. He’d found out what would happen to his staff and the ship if he weren’t there, and it scared him in a way he’d never have imagined.  
So he now had a bout of thankfulness for Enterprise. For Jim and his brash luck… Spock and his precious logic… Uhura and her silver tongue… Sulu and his skill… Chekov and his ability… and Scotty and his damned miracles.  
He shook himself from his thoughts, blue eyes going wide mid-thought monologue as he caught sight of an obvious patient practically sprinting for the Central Console. Memories jumping back unbidden to the nightmare with Jos, he surged upright and moved to stop whomever it was from harming those in his Sickbay. He stopped, gaping a moment as his sight and mind finally communicated and the patient was identified.  
Mr. Montgomery Scott.  
“Goddamn ornery Scotsman! What in tarnation do you think you’re doing out of bed??” it lashed free as his mind struggled to comprehend that the man was wounded and supposed to be in a sort of coma. How in the Hell was he conscious, let alone standing??  
Scotty ignored him entirely; his coloring hadn’t improved at all, leaving him ashen grey, and his breathing was erratic. His forehead was glistening with perspirant, further proving he was far from clear to be upright and moving around. McCoy frowned. It was likely Mr. Scott had woken believing he was still in the hostile environment he’d been in previously.  
Scotty continued moving to the console, and activated it. Suddenly wary, McCoy readied a hypo and slowly advanced after him again. Only, the Engineer said a very clear and succinct “Oh no…” and McCoy froze his advance, inches away and fully aware that everyone that was conscious in Sickbay were watching.   
And the man turned to the Chief Medical Officer, shaking in more than just a lack of nutrients. “She’s… she’s ventin’ Enterprise!” His voice warbled in a way similar to those with laryngitis. “We need ta -”  
Beep-oip!  
Everyone turned in slow motion to the Alert Panel as it lit in bright neon-red. The terror was palpable as the purple black light overcame it, ominous Be oo eeep joining the Klaxons before fading away to standard Red Alert once again.  
Scotty was already pulling up diagnostics and command prompts in a flurry of motion McCoy would never understand in a million years. It was, to borrow the term from Spock, fascinating… to watch the work the Engineer did, even in a situation as heart pounding as this. “Do you have a plan? Or are you flying by the seat of your pants?”  
Because he looked ready to pass out again. His brown eyes were far too wide, his breathing rapid… but he was alive, and it was a damn good sight. But he didn’t seem to be listening, instead continuing to type what had to be commands into the bios of the mainframe (so, okay, he knew somewhat what he was seeing) with the speed of an Earthen hummingbird.  
“Be getting’ emergency gear, laddie…” Scotty mumbled, more to himself while still aimed at McCoy.   
His stomach flipped as he began to understand what was happening. He knew, vaguely, what he was seeing on that console. “Bat-shit crazy son of a bitch!” He spun around for his office. “Nurses! Ready patients for a change of clothing! M’Benga, help me with this!” M’Benga had already come to his side, having forsaken his Bio-Bed nearly the same moment McCoy had spotted the runaway patient. He was limping, but… priorities.  
Sickbay became a flurry of action once again. Those who were far too stubborn to stay in bed were completing orders that flung around in chaos. At least, until Mr. Scott’s (not quite as scratchy now) voice rose over the din, “There’s no time! Evacuate everyone to the Morgue!” He snatched a data pad and waved. “Now!”  
They made it with little time to spare. The door hissed shut as the Sickbay’s atmospheric pressure vanished and air disappeared. Scotty had already begun tapping the Central Computer of the Morgue, disabling it from outside interference with deft fingers. He glanced at McCoy, then sank to the ground, the doctor catching him.  
“Bandi’s makin’ quick work…” the Engineer mumbled.  
“Damn right. Is she going to vent here too?”  
“Nae,” his accent was thick. “I cut ‘er access ‘ere. Lass be think’n the Morgue ‘mpty an’how. We be safe ‘ere.”   
“Good work. I’ll overlook the fact you shouldn’t be doing any strenuous activity in the face you saved my sorry toosh.” Scotty shot him a disconcertingly confused look. “I mean it. Once this is over, you’re grounded… but, thanks.”  
“Wha-er… can you see me?” that earned a blink or two. But Scotty was blinking as well, brow equally furrowed. Far too genuine to laugh it off as a joke or ignore it.  
“You’re damn right,” he opted for, sparing a glance toward M’Benga, who was frowning with visible dislike and confusion. They both watched the relief surge through the Engineer.  
“Right… good. Don’ like bein’ a ghos’ none…” He sat upright, against McCoy’s attempt to keep him down. “Doc, I need o’er ta that station, please. Go’ try ‘n stop this wench b’fore she damages Enterprise beyon’ recognition.”  
Two very different opinions waged war in his head. Every medically inclined instinct told him in no uncertain terms that Scotty should be drugged under so that he could actually rest and start to heal. The little part of him that was Star Fleet Officer somewhat agreed. After all, there’s no telling what Scotty’s actual state of mind was (after that comment, it likely wasn’t good), and that could lead the man to further damage.   
But there was a voice in his head that sounded very much like Jim that spoke the clearest: Help Him. And despite everything else… despite the arrow injuries, the poison and the cumulated symptoms, and the jaunt through cold storage… he did. He hooked an arm around Scotty’s torso, careful to avoid the injuries he himself had just sewn together not long ago, threw an arm over his neck and head, then stood with a careful hunch. Two others raced to assist.  
Which was fortunate, because damned if his shoulder wasn’t still pitching a fit.   
A quiet thankyou was his only response, and Scotty dove into the console as soon as it was in reach. McCoy took that instant to look around at the gathered Personnel. Grim faces, pale and injured. The sight made him frown deeper. Jos had done a number on every person present.  
“Captain!” Scott’s call made him jump, and he whipped to stare at him again, wide eyed.  
=/=/=  
Sickbay had been only one of the masses Enterprise was venting. The words had only barely sunk in before a different area was called… and then another. There was no time to come to terms. No time to think or mourn. There was only time to act.  
But every action was hitting a wall, leaving them no further than they’d started.  
Until it stopped. For a moment, Rand’s voice stopped her section by section announcement, and it was absolutely silent on the Bridge. Even Spock and Chekov, who’d been eagerly typing at the Engineering Station, slowly withdrew their hands, looking around in curiosity.   
“Status?” Jim called, glancing around to all who now stared at him.  
“/Capt’n!”  
He knew his jaw dropped. He witnessed about four others do the same before his eyes swung to the Helm on reflex. “Scotty!” There was that sense of ‘everything’s coming together… we’re alright’ that he’d gotten when he’d faced down Marcus and the Vengeance, high above Earth… it was a sensation he’d only gotten a few times previous. Usually at the pivotal moment when hope and ability were instantly restored.  
“/Capt’n, I got ‘er access cut. ‘Urry. Console she used was Term’nal SC1-A. That’s -/”  
“Get the ones responsible!” Kirk ordered, eyes meeting Spock’s. Security Conference. Let’s go!” he lunged for the Turbo Lift, Spock instep with him. “Sulu, the conn!” it was shouted as the door slid shut.  
Sulu slid into the Captain’s Chair easily, punching a few keys on the arm rest. “Scans indicate that there is a group of six located in Security Conference, Captain.”  
“/Acknowledged. Let me know if they try to leave./”  
“Aye sir.”  
“/They don’t know you’re enroute, Jim./” McCoy’s voice filtered through, earning more stunned looks on the Bridge.  
“/Bones!/”  
Sulu smirked as Chekov grinned his way.   
“/Scott’s got this thing lit up like a Christmas tree. But somehow it makes enough sense. You’re off the grid./”  
“/And you are going to tell me how you pulled this off. Once I’m done knocking Bandi’s teeth in, of course./” The predatory tone offset the joking but a fair amount.  
“/We’ll see. Don’t do too much damage. Medical License be damned; if I have to save that woman’s life, I’ll kill you./”  
“/I’ll see what I can do./”  
“/Capt’n, atmo’s been restored to the affected sectors. A’ leas’ enough to livable for now./”  
“/You’ve earned your pay for a year, Scotty. Good work!/”

=/=/=

Kirk and Spock were a team no other could match. They moved as if the other were a mere extension of themselves, stepping in unison and drawing their weapons, turning corners, down Jeffery’s Tubes, walkways, ramps, what have you.   
Extra officers joined them on waved order from Spock as they walked purposely to the bowels of the ship to where the proverbial Security bee hive was located. Red Alert/Code Black klaxons still blared in the empty halls, casting an eerie sense of de ja vous.  
Kirk tried to keep himself from wondering if the halls were empty because his crew had taken shelter… or if it were due to the hard vacuum. Each time, he forcibly focused on what would face them in only a few moments: Bandi.  
Lieutenant Commander Bridget Bandi. A woman he never would have figured to go rogue. Her demeanor… everything about her was so… opposite. Her ethic and commitment to Star Fleet and Enterprise had been proven over and over. Two missions ago, she’d saved his own life from a wild animal, and one-upped him by proving her skills in tracking and finding her way in unfamiliar territory.  
She planned strategies with Spock. He knew of a dozen times the two had discussed a hypothetical scenario in the Mess Hall after shift and they’d gone at it for hours. Sometimes they were joined by himself… occasionally Scotty or Bones would be there also, adding the grumbling commentary and sarcastic one liners and throwing the occasional curve ball into the scenario in question just to see where the plan would go then.  
“/Captain, I have names./” Sulu sounded blank and the group halted their procession and Jim’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to know who he was dealing with. At the same time, names would only force this enemy to be recognized as Bandi was. “/Bridget Bandi, Cammeron O’Donnell, Sezira, Coxan, Pedro Medeiros, Andy Rollo./”  
He tensed, and by extension, Spock, who was beside and slightly behind him, loomed. He may not know exactly which departments why hailed from… but he’d had dealings with each of them at least once. He could remember the swishing cadence of Coxan’s walk down the corridor and the pitch of Sezira’s warbly voice and melodious laugh. The shade of Andy’s eyes was unique among humans, and he’d always meant to ask if he was hybrid but never had known how to tactfully pose the question, so he’d looked it up without Bones’ knowledge and found that Andy was one-hundred percent human with violet eyes.  
He knew Medeiros was a young intern turned semi-permanent Engineer from software backgrounds. He’d worked with O’Donnel on Beta shift once or twice, and crossed paths with the wandering Captain often.  
And now, as they made it to Security’s Domain, they would face these people in battle. After all, Bandi wouldn’t come this far just to surrender. She would fight, tooth and nail. Her training only made her more dangerous.  
“Let the games begin.”

=/=/=

The names weren’t adding up.  
All around him, the survivors of Sickbay were down cast in stun and deep thoughts, leaving the Morgue as silent as it normally was. The only real sound being that of his fingers tapping the console as he rerouted this and that to beef up the security of all decks. The hacker had tried to switch tactics when they realized there was a new player in the game, but hadn’t been able to get the leg up. He may not be a Software Engineer, but he knew his Silver Lady.  
The names, though… he couldn’t think past the names Sulu had just disclosed.  
He tried to ignore it, and then it clicked. Things were fuzzy, but he distinctly remembered faces and emotions, and the names weren’t matching the faces he remembered. He didn’t doubt Sulu’s information…  
It took longer than it should have to realize that this meant that there were likely more involved than the listed six, and he gasped. The doctor was watching him like a hawk and furrowed in concern at the sound, stepping closer to help however was needed. He ignored him completely, pulling up another window on the console, trying to find the faces he’d seen at some point in connection to all of this.

=/=/=

Spock twitched, unfamiliar but becoming frequent emotion assaulted his senses just as it’d done previously. Startled, and ducking behind an obstacle he’d been unable to completely identify in the sudden rush of the fire fight that greeted them upon forcing the door open, he reached for it in the mental-scape.  
It was no longer logical. Mr. Scott was no longer in the state that’d befallen him. The effects of the Mind Meld should have dissipated by now. Yet here, now, he could sense the panic that overcame the Engineer just as clearly as he had before. And while the words spoken mind to mind were jumbled, thick with accent and not at all discernable, he could understand the basic premise:  
Something wasn’t right, and it was aimed at him.  
It forced him to reevaluate his surroundings. He’d managed to get in further than Jim; furthest of any of them. Jim was slightly behind him, toward the door. And Spock frowned. They were being shot at from two angles.  
He knew, even as Mr. Scott’s voice chimed over the Comm link, that the Officers that’d accompanied them were in league with Bandi. He returned their fire as their identities were all but shouted. Whether the Captain was surprised or not, he couldn’t say. Regardless, Kirk returned their fire as well. There was only a barrage of phaser fire in all directions.  
A different feeling overlaid the panic, and Spock tensed automatically. That was unfamiliar, but becoming frequent as well. It was the feeling that precluded an illogical move by Jim Kirk that was so… to quote a Junior Officer, “Off the wall”… that it usually worked. Most of the time, there was little thought given before acting, and though it was not always so, it usually led to injury or no real time to do more than simply act.  
It was that feeling that had set over him the moment he’d taken on the mission to board the Narada, and though he only realized it later, the two of them had been in perfect sync all through the mission. In the privacy of his quarters, he’d later marveled at his own actions and that such unprecise and haphazard… guess work… had yielded such satisfying results.  
So it was that the moment Jim lurched from his hiding place, Spock had more than enough warning and was already in cover position. The Captain bull-rushed the interior of the conference room with a war cry that echoed. He mysteriously dodged the enemy fire, ducked under again, and Spock did the same.  
Only for a moment. The Vulcan jumped up mid-enemy return and fired even as he followed Jim’s route, only subconsciously noting that the enemy return from behind was not sill active.  
“Hey.” Jim greeted as he ducked down, a small smirk at his lips and phasor pointing up at chin level. He leaned on the barricade, knees drawn up. “Nice shooting.”  
“I am uncertain if I successfully hit Officers Gavin and Bride.” Spock quirked a brow, still settled on his haunches. Showers of plasma particles rained down around them in a sparkly display. “I don’t believe the barrage is going to end soon, Captain,” he added, looking upward in attempt to gage the enemy.  
“Right. We’ll just have to make ‘em.” The glint of steel was as familiar as breathing, and they swung around in unison to fire back.

A/N: So... slashes. I have no idea why I went with those instead of italics... I don't remember if that's how I wrote previously.


End file.
